


Legacy

by pkabyssinian



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Baby Ben, Growing Up is Hard, I'm a terrible person, M/M, Nightmares suck, Rocks Fall Everyone Dies, Spare the rod spoil the child, Well almost everyone, ben tries to be a big boy, but he's just a little guy, family is always hard, he's a mama's boy, hux just wants his dad's approval, papa hux isn't a very nice man, sometimes love isn't enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/pseuds/pkabyssinian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Ben adored his mother.  She was soft and kind and always paused to pick him up, to hold him close.  He always felt safe with her and he knew that she loved him more than anything else in the whole galaxy.<br/>------<br/>Young Hux admired his father. Brendol Hux instantly commanded respect, even as a toddler Hux saw how men and women bowed to his father’s force of will. Hux always kept his eyes open to carefully watch and learn. It was important that he be able to see and understand.<br/>------<br/>Hux and Ren hate each other at first sight.  Strong-willed and ambitious, they are unable to react any other way, no matter that the Supreme Leader engineered their hatred. Their bitter rivalry will only end when one (or both) of them are dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy cats, something of mine without smut! Wait, wait, come back! So, I have this idea in my head about baby Ben and baby Hux and eventually we'll get somewhere with them. I warn you now, though... this isn't going to end well.

Young Ben adored his mother.  She was soft and kind and always paused to pick him up, to hold him close.  He always felt safe with her and he knew that she loved him more than anything else in the whole galaxy.

He was too young to remember when his father awkwardly first held him. Han Solo had no idea what to do with a squirming newborn and when Leia had placed the infant in his arms he’d frozen. He had held his arms at a strange angle, too stiff and rigid for the baby to relax. Han had been too stunned, too afraid, and far too in love with the tiny being in his arms.

Han never did get over his awkwardness.  Infant Ben never could feel comfortable in his father’s embrace and would squall and kick in those tense arms that never, quite, felt welcoming.

Leia always had seemingly infinite patience with the tiny toddler that trailed in her wake. One of Ben’s pudgy hands would be tangled in her senate robes or fisted tightly in her military uniform. His mother was always in motion; she had something to do, someone to talk to, plans that had to be made.  Even when she was stationary, she was rarely still; always tapping a foot or drumming her fingers.  But her unoccupied hand would ways rest softly on Ben. Perhaps it would card through his silky hair or just rest lightly on his shoulder or his back. 

Mostly what he remembered was her warm presence that always seemed to invite him to snuggle closer as the low murmur of politics soothed him.  It was only with his mother that he ever felt safe enough to drowse, confident that she would keep him safe.  He loved how she would trace her fingers over his back, never light enough to tickle, just enough to lull him.

She always seemed larger than life.  She could scoop him up and hold him close, his little legs dangling down. As he got older, she'd prop him on her hip as he wound his already long arms around her neck.  There was never a point where she didn't seem large enough to take on the whole world.

His father was often absent.  It wasn't Han’s fault, who was naturally nomadic and there was important work that needed done in many star systems to cement the New Republic.  Trade lanes that needed to be defined, treaties delivered, ambassadors sent.   Ben’s mother would often tell him how his father was ‘doing the legwork’ to create a better galaxy for him.  As if all their work was for Ben alone.

Han’s absence always felt to Ben as if his father wanted to stay away.

Han often tried to play with Ben, he would toss the boy in the air and gave him gruff pats on the shoulder and promised to show him how to shoot a blaster when he was older. Neither one could really relate to the other, Ben was innately solemn and Han was too gregarious.   Han’s easy charisma seemed off-putting to a little boy used to dealing with stodgy politicians and military officers.  Eventually they would drift apart and Ben would find his mother and rest peacefully against her side as Han did more repair work on the Falcon.

Sometimes Ben and his mother would watch holovids from the old Republic senate meetings. Ben never quite understood why his mama got so quiet and sad during them, but they both liked watching the senator from Naboo. Ben thought she was beautiful with her painted face and elaborate dresses.

“That’s your grandmother, little love,” Leia whispered into his hair one day. There was awe and an odd thickness in her voice. “You look so much like her.”

Ben was pleased and proud by his mama’s pronouncement.  From then on he watched the senator closely, he couldn’t see the resemblance between them but if his mother did then there must be one.  His mama was never wrong. 

Ben reached out to touch Senator Amidala and her image phased out around his hand. His mother had laughed indulgently at the indignant moue Ben had made before she hugged him close.

Late at night was when Ben was restless, when the nightmares would wake him and refused to let him surrender back into slumber.  Inevitably he would cry out as his fear got the better of him, his eyes wild and his hair plastered to his head with sweat.

His mother would hold him close as she gently rocked back and forth while she sang lullabies. Her long, long hair fell like a curtain around them so Ben felt encapsulated in her love. The shining strands created a barrier between him and the dream-memory of the scarred man dressed in black that asked Ben to hurt people.

Sometimes Ben would cry longer than necessary, he made soft hiccoughing noises as he burrowed closer to his mother’s warmth. Anything to prolong the gentle comfort she offered so freely.  Leia had so much love to give, an endless well, and Ben soaked it up as if he were parched ground.

If his father was home, there would be the inevitable argument that buzzed like angry bees over Ben’s head.

“You need to stop coddling the kid.  He’ll grow out of the nightmares if you’d let him face his fears,” Han grumbled, half asleep and unhappy at being woken.

“He’s my son.  He’s sensitive enough and already in tune with the Force to need my help, my shielding.  You can’t face down everything with bravado or by shooting at it,” Leia said stiffly with Ben’s head cradled against her neck.

“Letting him tough through it for just one night won’t kill him,” Han snapped back.

Their arguments always ended with Han walking out as he muttered under his breath.  All that really mattered to Ben was that his mother stayed with him.  He’d never be able to put his gratitude into words.

Yet Ben was terrified that some night his mother would heed Han’s words and leave him alone in the darkness.

Sometimes the dark whispered to him.  What scared him most of all was that one day he'd understand the words that murmured just below his hearing.  

In his misery, Ben never noticed how his mother’s arms would tighten protectively around him or how her face (but never her body) would harden at her husband’s words. All he knew was the bright blossom of fear that one day his mother wouldn't come for him.  One day she’d leave him in the dark.

Yet in the daytime everything was different.

For the longest time, all Ben knew was that his mother was his entire world. He had called her mama long enough for other children to make fun of him. But she knew so much and she could do anything and she was his perfect mama. She had saved the whole galaxy.  Even though she was a hero, she always had time for him, she never shushed him or pushed him to the side. Plus, Ben loved the tiny smile she gave whenever he called her mama. That smile was for Ben alone.

Leia always told him stories when he asked and he loved the true stories of her adventures the best. The ones where she escaped evil villains and flew in fast ships and met exotic creatures. Where she and daddy and Chewie and Uncle Luke braved untold dangers to rescue friends or foil enemies.  Some of them were sad stories and some of them were beyond Ben’s understanding but he loved to hear them anyway.

When Leia told these stories Ben would snuggle close to her, entranced.  It was during her stories that he hoped that he was going to grow up to be just like his mama. It might have been then that Ben decided he wanted to be a General like her. Or a senator like his grandmother. Maybe he'd be both. And he'd have a lightsaber like his Uncle Luke.

Mama said he could be anything he wanted. She told him he'd always be her little love, no matter how big he got. She'd be proud of him, whatever path his life took.

“I’ll save the galaxy the next time,” Ben told her. “I’ll stop evil just like you, mama.”

When he said it, his cheeks had rosily glowed and Leia had smiled down at him, her love enfolding him and giving him strength.

"With any luck, those days are done," his mama told him.  Still, Ben dreamed of being daring like his mama and flying through the galaxy with her and Chewie and daddy, too.  

As Ben grew up and grew older, the nightmares changed. They dug deeper into his psyche, grew inside him until even Leia’s love wasn't quite enough to push back the cold and dark they brought. Ben lashed out, with his body and his mind.  The Force toppled items in his bedroom, broke glass, pushed his parents away from him.

His father’s insistence that this was a phase and that Leia should let him handle the terrors on his own still scared Ben. Maybe his father was right, maybe he was too needy.  Too clingy.  The woman who helped bring about the New Republic surely had better things to do than coddle one little boy who couldn't control himself.

It made Ben withdraw emotionally, he doubted himself and his place. He began to think that his mother had kept him close to keep an eye on him. To monitor his stability.  That she was spying on him because he couldn't be trusted not to lash out.  As he pulled away from the love he once gravitated toward, he never noticed his mother’s misery.

Leia chased after him, of course she did. In his pain and through his self-loathing Ben put the worst possible meaning to his mother’s actions. She was, he thought, desperately trying to keep him under her thumb. She was, he determined, trying to make him the perfect son that General Organa should have had.

Instead she was stuck with plain old Ben who couldn't get over his nightmares, who still wasn't getting along with the other children.  Ben who couldn't keep his Force powers under control. 

He could hear his mother talking to other parents, to family friends.  Telling them how he was still so young, how he had so much potential. The words twisted inside of him, turned into the feeling that he was a burden.   He thought her words meant that he wasn’t living up to what she expected of her son.  That his mother would be better off if he weren't there to weigh her down.

Ben remembered with perfect clarity the day he learned what he was.  What was wrong with him.

He was supposed to be out with Chewie and his father.  Han had clapped him on the shoulder one too many times, had made some remark that had rankled and Ben had exploded. When his temper flared, sometimes the Force flared around him and Han had been pushed down into the dirt. Horror had overcome Ben at his action and he'd run away, run home.

Shame had flooded him as he pelted for the safety of his room.  What kind of person was he to lash out at his father?  He deserved whatever punishment his parents decreed.   How many times had his mother and his uncle told him that using force, using the Force against another, was the way of a bully?  He should be better than that.

At home, his mother was talking to her brother. Uncle Luke was always kind but Ben was also a little in awe of him. Everyone knew Luke was a Jedi Master.  The last Jedi, a legend that almost eclipsed his mother.  Ben tried to sneak by the room where they talked.  He didn't want to face the question of why he wasn't with his father.

“It's getting worse and I don't know how to help him.  He barely looks at me, he won't let me touch him,” Leia explained, her voice thick with unshed tears.  Ben paused, they were discussing him?

“It's harder for him than it was for us.  Ben knows he’s connected to the Force but he doesn't understand what's driving him,” Luke responded calmly. Luke was always calm, Ben envied that. Wished he could tap into that easy quietude.

"I don't understand!  He's my baby, Luke. I can't see him go through this, it tears me apart.  It’s all my fault,” Leia shot back and now Ben was certain his mother was crying. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. Unable to feel anything but sick certainty that his mother was finally going to admit out loud that she didn't want him.

From the soft muffled noises Ben thought that Luke was holding his mother as she sobbed. Ben knew he was the cause of all his mother’s problems. Governments and militaries she could handle with ease; it was just Ben that made her miserable. Always Ben who made his mother cry.

“Hey, Leia; no, no! You're the good in him, our family has always been strong in the Force. Ben is just torn both ways, the light and the dark are equally present in him.  He’s young, it's hard for him to find his path,” Luke told her comfortingly.

Ben hunched into himself as Luke's words washed over him. He was light and dark?  He was pulled toward the dark side?  Is that what was wrong with him?  If it was, that might explain his nightmares and how the darkness seemed to call to him.  The dark in him might be what repulsed his mother. She was always so good and pure, how the dark in Ben must disgust her.

He remembered then all the times she held him close, kissed his forehead, hugged him tight. It must have been so hard for her to do all of that. Feeling the dark in him when she was all light.

Ben felt as if his whole world was breaking apart, as if he had shattered into a thousand pieces that could never be fitted together again. He thought that was the worst of it. He thought nothing else could ever match this horror.

“But, Luke… Vader,” Leia whispered, her words so soft Ben almost missed them. Darth Vader?  The Sith Lord who destroyed his mother’s home world?  The only person he had heard his mother direct anger and fear at? There was no reason to ever mention _him_.  Ben’s mind grasped at the implications, yet there was no correlation he could see. No reason for the old ghost of Darth Vader to rise.

"None of us can escape his legacy,” Luke replied tightly.  Even his Uncle was made uncomfortable by the mythic figure.  All his mother would say about Vader was that he had been a man consumed by the dark side.  But Ben had heard stories.  All the kids had overheard tales about how Darth Vader was evil given form. 

“I can feel Vader in him,” Leia confessed finally. 

All the air rushed out of Ben’s lungs.  His mama couldn’t mean him, could she?  Surely not. His mother wouldn't think that he was like Darth Vader. 

No.  Impossible.  Please let this be wrong, one of his nightmares.   Internally, Ben bargained.  If this could just be a bad dream, he’d never be bad again.  He’d never cry out in the middle of night for his mother.  He’d face his fears and be strong.

“He was Ben’s grandfather, you can't deny it forever,” Luke said gently.

Those words freed Ben from his paralysis and he took off at a run.  Fear blinded him, Luke's last words seemed to follow Ben, taunting him as they confirmed all of his fears.

Darth Vader.  The face of evil for the old Empire. The reason his mother had fought so hard to free the galaxy.

He was Ben’s grandfather.  Ben was descended from the dark side. 

At nine years old his world was irrevocably fragmented.   Now, certainly now his mother would have to send him away.  Of course Luke, the Jedi Master, would have to point out how flawed Ben was.  Luke and Han were close friends. His father had always wanted his mother to stop coddling Ben. Probably to stop wasting time on Darth Vader’s grandchild.

Ben kept running, his unsettled mind wouldn't let him stop. When he flagged, his memory would dredge up a remembered mistake and his feet would pound harder as he tried to physically outrun his inner demons.

Eventually exhaustion shut Ben's body down and he fell onto the soft grass.  He panted as his lungs tried to get the oxygen they craved. His limbs twitched and cramped, Ben welcomed the pain. He deserved it.

Ben didn’t know how long it was before his uncle found him, still face down and miserable. One look at his Uncle’s face and Ben knew. They knew Ben had heard them, that Ben knew what he was. His mama, no, his mother must have finally decided he wasn't worth the work and the worry.  Maybe Uncle Luke was going to take him away.

“Where will you take me?” Ben asked gravely, he was proud that he could barely hear the tears in his voice. He tried to be a man about it, he looked his uncle in the eyes. He did his best to stop the trembling in his limbs.

“I was going to take you home.  Maybe we could talk to your mom about you coming to the school for a while. Learn to use the Force and be a Jedi. There are kids there your own age, I think you'd like it,” Luke told him; speaking to Ben like he always did, as if Ben were an adult.

What he really wanted was to ask what his mother thought of him going away. Wanted to ask if it were her idea or if Luke had taken pity on Leia and hadn't made her say it.  Instead he pulled his bony knees up to his chest and gave a stiff nod. He didn't want to embarrass his uncle.

Really, he didn't want to know because there was a little voice in the back of his head that said that this was proof.  Ben didn't want to know that voice was right.

Halfway home, Uncle Luke scooped Ben up and sat the boy on his shoulders. Luke’s one hand felt odd against Ben’s leg, colder than the rest of him. But Ben didn't complain, he wasn't sure he could have kept walking and this was better than being carried like a baby.

Once they reached the squat white house Ben could already hear the low rumble of his father’s anger. He ducked his head down and rubbed his face in Luke’s hair as his embarrassment flared.  His parents were fighting again. About him.  Again.

Sometimes it felt like he was the only thing they argued about. 

Something rankled deep in Ben as Luke slowed and finally stopped. His uncle, Ben knew, was going to take pity on him. Luke would go in there and face down his parents for Ben, sparing him another scene. Ben knew he should be grateful, should be glad that his uncle cared.  It seemed impossible for him to feel that way. 

In that moment something dark took root in Ben. He tucked it away deep, a vestige never to see the light of day.

“Do you want to go in there?” Luke asked carefully. Ben mutely shook his head and he went limp as Luke pulled Ben from his shoulders. “Why don't you wait here. I'll grab your things and we can go to the temple until things calm down.”

Miserably Ben nodded, unable to meet his uncle’s eyes. In everything he was a failure. One foot scuffed at the ground as his uncle ruffled his hair.  Like he was still a little kid or something.  

 _To them you are just a little boy,_ the night-time voice told him. _A little lost boy that they can't control._

At his feet, a black stone had been uncovered by Ben’s toe. His uncle turned away and entered his parent’s house, leaving Ben alone in the twilight.  When the door to the house shut, Ben leaned down and slipped the rock into his pocket.  It was a small weight against his outer thigh, the last trace of his childhood.

Before full night had fallen, his uncle returned with a small bag.  Ben assumed it was filled with his clothes and wished he'd thought to ask for the stuffed toy his mother had made for him. No, it was better if he left it behind. He didn't need it. He wasn't a baby any more. Ben doubted that the grandson of Darth Vader needed the comfort of a silly toy.

“C’mon, kiddo. We can be back at the temple for a late dinner if we hurry,” Luke told him companionably, his hand settling on Ben’s shoulder. Sullenness warred with what little gratefulness Ben had, he forced himself to nod.

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Ben said suddenly and even he could hear how morose he sounded.

“No, I guess you aren't.  But it's hard for us adults to see that sometimes,” his uncle replied but didn't remove his hand. With careful pressure, Luke guided Ben to his ship.  Ben walked on board without looking backward.

It didn’t escape his notice that his mother hadn’t come out to say goodbye to him.  Ben thought he was old enough to understand what that meant.

“We’ll come back in a day or two, once things have settled,” Luke told him.  It was meant to be a comfort, Ben was sure.  It just made him feel worse.  Ben tried to nod in acquiescence but the movement was jerky as he tried to keep his tears from falling.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and wrapped the stone in his grip.  It dug into the palm of his hand and Ben tightened his fingers as hard as he could.  The slight pain helped to drive away his tears.  There was no reason for him to cry like a baby. 

Ben never did return home.

And then everything changed forever when Ben turned fifteen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Hux admired his father. Brendol Hux instantly commanded respect, even as a toddler Hux saw how men and women bowed to his father’s force of will. Hux always kept his eyes open to carefully watch and learn. It was important that he be able to see and understand.

Young Hux admired his father. Brendol Hux instantly commanded respect, even as a toddler Hux saw how men and women bowed to his father’s force of will.  Hux always kept his eyes open to carefully watch and learn. It was important that he be able to see and understand.

He was always trying to atone for his first sin – that of being born premature. Hux had heard stories, never from his father, about how his early birth had interrupted a crucial moment in the careful trade negotiations his father had headed.  With the absence of the key mediator the dialog had fallen apart. How that might have been avoided if Hux had waited until his appointed birth time to exit his mother’s womb or if his mother hadn't been so tasteless as to die while giving birth.  Had she just held on, Brendol wouldn't have been forced to stop the negotiations and determine what to do with an unfortunately timed infant.

Sometimes being early was worse than being late.

Many in the Imperial corps had expected Brendol to hire a series of nannies to deal with the infant.  Many of his contemporaries thought less of him when he chose to raise the boy on his own. None of them understood the unique opportunity it presented and Brendol’s reticent stubbornness on the matter had lost him a few supporters.  As Hux was growing up he heard various rants on the shortsightedness of the Empire’s supposed best and brightest.

Brendol worked out how to raise a motherless child and still train his cadets, run an officer training program, and fulfill all of the other duties he had set before himself. One could manage anything as long as they had proper planning and routine.  Brendol was a paragon of organization.

Hux was always grateful that his father chose to see to his rearing and early training personally. There must be some potential in him that father had thought worth developing.  A spark that could be nurtured into greatness.

Hux never asked. Never even let himself think about what his father had seen in him. That kind of self-centeredness wasn't worthy of him or Brendol. Young Hux had been raised to follow orders, to trust in his superiors, but also to look for ways to advance himself in ways that would better the Order. The people themselves weren't important, it was the structure they upheld.

When he’d been a small child Hux had a slight lisp, words lost their crispness in his mouth and he had worked to quickly erase the error. As long as he could remember he'd wanted to make his father proud and less than perfect speech reflected poorly on both of them. Father was a busy man; he didn't have time for needless or useless things. It was up to Hux to be neither.

“Your fate is what you make it,” his father had told him repeatedly. Hux could believe it, he saw with his own eyes how his father was a self-made man. Brendol had come from a back-water world and risen through the ranks of the old Empire until he was the man chosen to train Imperial Officers, father shaped how the Empire itself was run.

Although he was to make his own fate, Hux understood from almost the time he could walk that the only fate he should want was one that bettered the growing First Order.

Dimly he remembered dreaming of being an artist, as a child he had loved painting with watercolors.  Some well-meaning attaché had given him paints and paper thinking it a kindness and a way to stave off boredom.  It had been a quiet pastime that kept him busy as his father worked.  As he grew older, he understood that painting wasn't an acceptable hobby, much less a career.  With that realization, he had put aside the paints to focus on better pursuits.

All that mattered was reclaiming the glory of the Empire. The only way to do that was through the military. Hux had always been smart enough that he hadn’t needed such things spelled out for him.  He learned just as much from inference as he did anything else.

When the Empire was brought low, father had recovered.  Rebuilt. It was Brendol’s driving force that had helped the First Order rise from the ashes. A phoenix that would burn away the dross left in the galaxy and allow order to triumph.

“Mismanagement can ruin the strongest structure,” Brendol had lectured.  For Hux, it was one of the few things that his father said that had buried in and took root at the heart of him.

Hux could admit that his father had been a distant man. He wouldn't say _harsh,_ although he knew others would, rather Hux would say _demanding_. Brendol never asked for perfection, that was an unrealistic goal. Rather, he taught his son to plan. Know where, know approximately when everything will fall apart. 

“When you can predict that, then you’ll have the ability to see the underlying structure of decay and avoid it.  Entropy is always the enemy,” his father could be overheard to tell his students. It was important that the men and women he trained be able to think, lesser men were meant to follow orders but officers should have the clear ability to lead.

While many thought his father’s methods too unforgiving for a child; Hux had no complaints. Perhaps his punishments sometimes outweighed the crime. Perhaps exacting obedience from a young child was an impossibility. Corporal punishment had never been outlawed and the heavy sting of his father’s belt or hand always made an impression and served as an effective deterrent. They both counted that as effective parenting.

But for all of that, there were good memories. Like when father had taught him to play chess. Brendol had patiently showed young Hux the moves and how to think, to strategize, as well as when and how to sacrifice pieces.

“There are always those that you need leave behind, boy.  Dead weight.  Don't let dead weight trap you or kill you,” Brendol would tell him as he scrutinized the board.

“Yes, father.”

“Mind your esses.  You're lisping again.”

Which led to what seemed like endless hours as Hux stared at his reflection and recited ‘sip, ship, sail, sir’ over and over again until he could say the words perfectly. Minding his speech pattern would become a mainstay in his life. 

An even better memory was when his father had taught him to shoot. Hux had already mastered patience and by drawing on that he managed to be an excellent shot.   Especially at a distance.  It was one of the few times his father had ever given Hux any praise. After his initial weapons training, Brendol left his son alone to develop his talent. Having earned his father’s trust in that arena was still one Hux’s proudest moments.

Even though his father was a large man and barrel chested, young Hux was cut of slimmer cloth.  He was scrawny, with coltishly long legs and arms on a lean frame. It had made him work a little harder in order to get ahead, he’d never win through brute straight but he could fight smarter. 

What _had_ gotten him into trouble was his attitude.  On the first day of primary school he had been determined to make a good first impression, to show his intellect.  Sadly, that meant Hux spent most of the day parroting things he’d heard his from his father; always prefaced with: “My father, the Commandant, says…”

By the time class was over, the other children were heartily sick being told the Commandant’s pearls of wisdom via Brendol Hux’s progeny.  Most likely the teachers felt the same, but they were better at concealing their scorn.

Three boys were waiting for Hux at the end of the day.  It didn’t surprise Hux, he had known that he wouldn’t make friends.  That wasn’t what school was meant to teach.  Young Hux squared his shoulders and faced the boys with as much pride as he could muster.   Hux hadn’t yet caught up with his recent growth spurt and that made him clumsy.  He was determined not to show fear at the confrontation, it was up to him to command respect.

“I didn’t think you’d ever shut up about your daddy,” the first boy sneered, his hands already balled into fists.

“Don’t got nothing else to say?” asked the second boy with a wicked grin.  Hux dismissed him as all bluster. 

The third boy Hux ignored.  It was unlikely he’d join the fight; he’d stand there and watch it play out, possibly add a few taunts. As long as he hit the first boy hard enough, the other two would leave him alone.  Always take out the leader, Hux told himself.

“It’s not my fault that you are unwilling to learn from your betters,” Hux finally responded, he thought that sounded dignified enough.  Like something his father might say.

“Everyone knows your father’s a loon!” the first boy sing-songed, the words distorting as they were drawn out.  _Yeeer fah-thuuuurz uh lyoooooooo-n._

Afterwards, Hux knew he was wrong.  The taunt burst within him, all the old indignation he had felt throughout his life from remembered stories of how his father had been slighted were uncovered and laid bare by those words. Anger, red hot and potent, boiled out of him in a frenzy.  Without thought or plan, Hux launched himself at the boy.

His fists flailed wildly and uncontrolled, a few blows connected before Hux rammed his head into the stomach of the boy to try to knock him down.  They both tumbled onto the dirt in a tangle of thrashing limbs.  For a brief, exhilarating moment Hux thought he might win this battle. 

Then the other two boys piled onto him.  Against their numbers he didn’t stand a chance.  Fists and feet plowed into Hux but not once did he consider surrender.  He fought back as best he could, each blow the boys landed only made Hux more vicious which fed into their retaliation.

Although what stung the worst was that he had predicted the third boy would remain uninvolved.  He had calculated incorrectly.  If he had read the situation better, if he had relied on his training and not his emotions… No, his actions alone brought him here and he’d see it through.

The teacher was forced to break them apart and Hux was immediately ashamed of himself.  He should have known better, should have conducted himself as was befitting the Commandant’s son.  What was done was done, though and Hux refused to apologize for his actions.

Hux managed to pull himself into an almost presentable stance when his father arrived.  His left leg was awash in pain, one eye had swollen shut, and blood trickled from various wounds and contusions.  He knew none of that would serve as an excuse for not standing at attention for his father’s inspection.

Eyes that were so similar to his own raked over Hux’s face then took in the state of the other boys.  Hux had put up a good fight, the boys were just as bloody and bruised as he was, one clutched at his side while another’s nose was broken.  None of them, however, were the Commandant’s son.

Brendol walked over to his son with slow dignity and stared down into his child’s face.  Hux managed to keep his eyes open and straight ahead, even when he saw his father lift his hand. 

The resulting slap rocked Hux’s head to the side, his swollen eye twinged as pain blossomed on the right side of his face.  The blow was hard enough to cut his inner cheek on his teeth and the sickly-sweet taste of blood coated his mouth.  Hux felt his lower lip tremble and bit down on it to make sure he didn’t disgrace himself.

It took all of his concentration to keep his composure, he had no idea what his father and teacher discussed. Hux’s shame eclipsed everything, made him deaf and dumb.   The meeting was short and then Hux was left to trail along behind his father as they walked home.  There was transportation available but Hux understood that this was part of his punishment.

“You will never let emotion get the better of you again, boy.  You must always attack from a position of power.  When you let your emotions rule your head you are fighting a war on two fronts and you will never win,” Brendol scolded, disgust heavy in his tone.  

“Yes, sir,” it was the only response that was allowed.  His father wasn’t wrong; he did have to learn to control himself.  It was important to only ever make a mistake once.

With time, Hux became harder on himself than the Academy instructors. Harder than even Brendol Hux would have been.   It was important to Hux that he prove to his father that he could make something of himself.  That he was worth the time his father spent on him.

When he was old enough to apply to the Academy, Hux did so after he spent two years off-world in the regular training program. He had wanted to work his way up based on his own merit.  It felt like the only choice in life that was truly his own.

In his time off-world, Hux learned to love the quiet of space. Ship living was full of order and discipline, unlike being on a planet where land and weather could equally unpredictable.  He often wondered if his father missed commanding a giant Star Destroyer, if he would have returned to space if he hadn't been saddled with a son.

There had been teachers who offered Hux advanced classes based solely on who his father was and Hux refused every time. It wasn't pride, Hux understood that cutting corners would only undermine him and be to his detriment. Most offers were made in a misguided attempt to curry his father’s favor. Hux would be unworthy if he played into such obvious flattery.

Hux understood why the offers were made, though.  You had to grasp opportunities when they came. He had to be clever enough to know when to take advantage of people. His pride was important but he knew to never let it blind him or rule him.  There could only ever be one master and intellect should win every time.

It had always been something of an open secret, his father’s ambition.   The Empire had fostered such drive but the First Order preferred simple loyalists. Brendol Hux was an outsider in his own organization, they had to tolerate him as it was his training methods that would create their military prowess. Because of his advancements, few would be able to match their might.

For all these reasons and more, Hux was proud of his father.

For the longest time, Hux's greatest regret was that he never got to complete his training with his father. However, he was pragmatic enough to understand that there was no other way for him to make a name for himself if he constantly trailed along in his father’s great shadow. Hux wanted, more than anything, for people to see him as his own man.

When he realized that, he began adapting the training he'd received from his father to better fit his own strategies. His conscience would twinge when he purposefully changed what he thought of as direct orders from the Commandant, but he learned to silence any inner dissension. Survival was key. Order was key. Everything else could be pushed aside to fulfill the main objective.

By the time Hux had entered his early teens he had a better grasp of the Commandant's end game than anyone else. Not even the vaunted Cadets knew all that Brendol Hux had planned.  Oh, Hux didn't fool himself into thinking he was aware of the entire scope of his father’s machinations, but he alone was in the unique position to actually unravel Brendol’s tangled web. 

So he began the arduous mental process of realigning what he knew with what he wanted to accomplish. He understood how the Commandant's reputation worked against him and began to correct his own behavior so he would be seen in a different light.  He was careful to hide his own ambitions, to be seen as a good and loyal soldier.  He would never truly care what the other’s thought of him as long as they could perform their respective tasks.

If he was accused of being cold and calculating, Hux could live with that. Because he also gained a reputation as a thinker, as someone who knew how to command and delegate. It amused him that so many assumed that he went into command because he was afraid to get his hands dirty.  Or the preposterous idea that he had no ability in combat, just in directing troops.  He never corrected such assumptions, better to let them underestimate him. 

As if any son of Brendol Hux wouldn’t be trained in the art of fighting. 

Hux tried not to take pride in the reputation he earned for efficiency and fastidiousness. It was the first time he had been able to test his own theories based on his father’s teachings and he found the results more than acceptable.

When he finally returned to Arkanis, Hux knew he had changed; knew he was better than he’d ever been.  When he stepped off the shuttle and was processed, the entrance droid stumbled only once, would Master Hux be returning to his father’s house?

“No, assign me a barrack as if I were a regular student,” Hux told the droid without blinking. How ridiculous, why would he go anywhere else than with the other incoming officer trainees? 

After returning, Hux didn't see or speak to his father.  There was no reason to seek him out. Hux knew he would most likely pass through his entire training without encountering the Commandant.  While his scores were excellent, there would never be an invitation to the Commandant’s table.  Nepotism was frowned upon by Brendol Hux.  If, in a fit of madness, his father had extended the offer Hux would have been honor bound to politely decline.  No, his father would never embarrass either one of them in such a manner.

He’d always been told that the Commandant’s Cadets were like distant siblings, but Hux never considered them as such. They certainly never accepted him into their unit-like family and if Hux harbored any disappointment at not being invited to join their ranks, he never expressed it.  He buried any possibly jealousy at how the Cadets earned and soaked up his father’s praise as being unworthy of him.

The Cadets were a tight knit bunch, they presented a united front that Hux knew he'd never penetrate. For the most part they avoided him as much as he did them.  Neither side quite knew what to make of the other, although occasionally one would try to talk to him.  For his part, Hux ignored all overtures of friendship. Being alone protected him.  It meant he could never be accused of riding another’s coat tails.  

Plus, Hux thought that the Cadet’s reliance on each other was a weakness.  They should all be self-sufficient; they wouldn’t always be together.  It gave them an exploitable area in their defenses because they expected one of their ‘friends’ to be there.    From his primary school days Hux had learned to keep his opinions to himself, but he watched and learned and insulated himself. 

He knew from his father that it didn't matter if they all hated you, you completed your mission.  You supported the structure that would bring order to all lives. The children that were loyal to his father would serve their purpose, just as Hux would serve his. If they weren't farsighted enough to see that they were working for the same thing, that wasn't Hux’s problem.

It wouldn't be the first nor the last time that Hux would need to work around those to petty to see the big picture. The only thing that that truly bothered Hux was when he had to work harder to compensate for the prejudice of others. Ridiculous that officers-to-be couldn't manage themselves better. How could they command others when they were so divided within themselves?  It disgusted Hux.

Hux had expected to only see his father at his graduation, he set a goal of earning high honors and was well on his way to attaining them.  He consistently placed at the top of his class, he saw no reason to hide his brilliance. If he had the foolish notion that he might see a glimmer of pride on his father’s face as he accepted his diploma, then he kept it tightly locked away. 

So it was a surprise when half way though his training, Hux found him summarily summoned to the family home in the middle of the day.

He arrived expecting his father to be waiting for him and adequately hid his shock when the only person in the living area was a tall, thin man that Hux had never seen before.  He looked over the intruder, quickly noting details – balding, medical uniform, glasses, solemn expression –  before he straightened his shoulders in preparation for the news.

“I am assuming that something has happened to my father, doctor?” Hux said lowly, since Hux didn’t see Brendol he had to presume the worst from this scenario.

“Ah, yes… I’m Dr. Kalan.  You might want to sit down,” the man, Dr. Kalan, offered.  Hux shook his head and adjusted his stance to steady himself.

“I’m fine as I am.  What happened?”

“I’m sorry to say I must give you the regrettable news that earlier today your father suffered from a large coronary incident.  He was here, at home, and managed to comm for help.  Unfortunately, when we arrived the situation was already beyond our ability to mend.  We tried everything we could to save him, but the damage to his heart was too severe.  May I extend my deepest condolences on your loss,” the man was trying to be compassionate and clearly was waiting for some sort of outburst.  As if Hux would be so gauche to have an emotional incident.

“Thank you for informing me and discharging your duty.  Has his body been removed to be interred yet?” Hux asked, angry with himself that he had to swallow several times to get the words out.  How terrible for his father.  Brendol never had a chance to see his dream completed, would never see the First Order take its rightful place in the galaxy.

The man took a step back, a look of soft confusion on his face.  Hux allowed himself one heavy sigh, clearly he wasn’t reacting as expected.  It wasn’t his problem that this man had expectations of him that weren’t being met, Hux had to live up to his father’s legacy now.  Tears or histrionics has no place in making sure Brendol Hux’s final orders were completed to his exacting specifications.  Hux wouldn’t be able to that if he allowed himself to let go of his composure. 

“Well?” Hux demanded.

“Sorry, sir.  We thought you might like to see him one last time, to say goodbye?” the man offered, obviously at a loss.  Disgust settled in Hux’s gut, this man was at least twenty years Hux’s senior.  Kalan should be relieved to not have a weeping child on his hands.

“Unnecessary.  Carry out your duties in regards to my father’s body and I’ll see to the rest,” Hux ordered, steel in his tone.  The doctor saluted crisply and left to compete the task assigned to him.

He waited while the medic contacted the necessary agency to have his father removed.  As they took the shroud covered body of his father from what had been their home, Hux felt a pang in his chest.  A waste that Brendol’s body had failed him.  Hux understood the vagrancies of fate, it did no good to wish for a different outcome.  But for a moment, he did. 

Somehow the house seemed smaller without his father’s massive personality in it.  Hux went through the house and unplugged electronics and turned off the lights.  He already knew there was nothing here, no reason to return.  He had left none of his possessions behind and the few effects of his father’s that he might want would be forwarded to him once Brendol’s will was dispersed.  The house itself belonged to the Academy and would be cleared as they saw fit. 

Neither of the Hux’s were sentimental, yet when Hux closed the door to the house he’d grown up in for the last time his breath rushed out him in an almost sob.  Quickly he tightened his control on himself.  He still had work he had to finish and classes to prepare for as well as the necessary tasks that would follow his father’s death. 

As he stood in the spreading twilight, Hux’s resolve was born.  He would not only join the First Order but he would rise within the ranks until he occupied a position at the top.  One that should have been his Father’s. 

With empty hands, Hux walked back to the student barracks.  At sixteen, he became an orphan; his only choice was the one his father would have wanted for him.  It seemed fitting.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Ren hate each other at first sight. 
> 
> Strong-willed and ambitious, they are unable to react any other way, no matter that the Supreme Leader engineered their hatred. Their bitter rivalry will only end when one (or both) of them are dead.

Hux and Ren hate each other at first sight.   
  
Strong-willed and ambitious, they are unable to react any other way, no matter that the Supreme Leader engineered their hatred. Their bitter rivalry will only end when one (or both) of them are dead. Until then, it became a game of tactics - who would climb higher in Supreme Leader Snoke's estimation.  
  
Hux never planned on changing their dynamic. Kylo Ren's appointment to the _Finalizer_ became an insult, a slap in the face, to the man who'd risen on his own merit to the rank of General. A Force-user with a place of command on board was ridiculous, a mockery to both the ship and the First Order. The first Resurgent-class Star Destroyer should have been his, Hux earned her through merit, not favoritism.  
  
The points of pride to which Hux held himself, his perfected reactions and adherence to control, were anathema to Ren. The Knight lay outside the military chain of command yet he remained an equal to the General, a perverse joke by the Supreme Leader. Of course Ren wouldn't be content as a passive mystic; the man thought himself destined to lead, it seemed his sole mission to usurp control from Hux. That Starkiller Base belonged to Hux alone became the only salve to his pride.   
  
Until the Resistance snatched the Base from his grasp, destroying the greatest weapon of the First Order. However, by then other things changed, some strange alchemy coalescing between himself and Ren.   
  
Their strange and new interactions didn't illuminate the puzzle that was Kylo Ren, the man remained a complete mystery. The intrigue, in and of itself, captivated Hux. Few could hide their secrets once Hux turned his intellect their way, most were easy to unravel.   Kylo Ren always was different.   
  
The catalyst which transformed their mutual hatred had been obvious in hindsight. The last frayed thread holding Hux's loyalty snapped with the assassination attempt.   
  
Dusty yellow Io Prime, all the collated reports agreed, was the only planet to mine the ore necessary to another of Snoke's secret projects. The local government remained hesitant to enter a transaction with the First Order, their reputation for brutal efficiency spread farther and faster than anticipated. Thus the issued order for Hux to broker a deal or, if that failed, for his troops to overrun the capital city and commandeer the metal.  
  
The unusual mission deployment puzzled Hux, which hinted as this being an arcane punishment. Occasionally military duties overlapped an objective that belonged to the Knights of Ren, where the orders conflicted the Knights expected Hux to yield to their superiority. Whenever Hux failed to do so, it was necessary to chastise him as a crude reminder for a mere mortal not to interfere with Force-users.  
  
For once in Hux's life a lesson needed repetition. His stubborn streak, inherited from his father, meant Hux refused to bow to mysticism and magic. 

Negotiations on the planet proceeded easily, far better than Hux had planned or hoped. On the last day just as they reached an amical agreement - it all went to hell. Familiar ascetic robes swept into the conference room like a black wind and Hux was ready to snap at Kylo Ren until his rational stopped him. Quickly Hux bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted the familiar tang of blood, all to halt whatever insult he wanted to hurl. The intruding Knight of Ren wasn't their master.   
  
"Governor, you are hiding a Force sensitive refugee. You will remand him to my keeping," the Knight interrupted without any preamble and Hux resisted rolling his eyes.  All his hard work ruined with a single demand. The habitual mask which covered the faces of the Knights distorted this one's voice enough so age and gender remained hidden. Hux thought the intruder might be a woman by the way she moved.  
  
"I, how dare you, why, never!" the paunchy and balding man sputtered. His grey skin flushed and mottled a dark purple and his small eyes all but disappeared as he narrowed them. Like all the natives here he was squat and heavy, his receding hairline made his face seem broader, and his corpulent cheeks quivered in either anger or fear.   
  
The Knight lifted her hand (the fine-boned hand hinted she was a woman) and the governor immediately began to gasp and struggle at the invisible pressure at his throat.  
  
"The refugee. He's young, ragged, and hiding in your villa. Do you call him out or do I remove this structure stone by stone until I find him?" she hissed. Hux leaned back in his chair mentally reviewing how he might salvage this situation once the Knight had done her worst.   
  
Later, Hux refused to assign luck to the Knight's appearance, even if her arrival helped to save him. In the vacant hallway a sound echoed, a hollow ringing of metal against stone. He never would have noticed if the governor hadn't incurred the Knight of Ren's wrath. The noise scraped against Hux's instincts and he dropped low to the floor before creeping toward the door. He peeked out, unsurprised to see Resistance soldiers marching from either end of the long hallway.  
  
Hux was never unarmed, but one blaster against a group of Resistance fighters intent upon killing him didn't lend favorable odds. Of course they were here for him, no other reason would have them to enter a diplomatic building with blasters ready to fire . Unless, by some odd chance, their target was the Knight of Ren.  
  
In the back of the conference room, the Knight of Ren continued her own brand of diplomacy. Nothing would tear her from her task before completion, they were all single-minded. Hux knew to expect no help from her.  
  
The best he scenario he could devise was to bottleneck them at the door and hope they were a small unit with no recourse to backup. He'd already set off the small transponder he kept on himself for emergencies, with luck Unamo picked up on the signal and sent troops en route as backup.  
  
Making sure to keep himself low, Hux did his best to tip the table to create a barrier. The table top was long and heavy and he couldn't budge the stone slab, so he abandoned the idea to build a small barricade of chairs as a bare shelter. Hux picked off the insurgents as they tried to enter the room, waiting until the last possible moment before he expended a shot. As expected, the Knight ignored the proceedings, focused on her own task but she didn't try to hinder him.  
  
A stray blaster bolt sizzled toward Hux only to be diverted by the Knight. Hux couldn't take even a moment to spare a glance at her but shouted a hasty 'thanks' and hoped she heard him. He must concentrate his focus on what unfolded before him and jerked in surprise as she knelt next to him, an invasion into Hux's personal space.  
  
"Would you like help, General?"  
  
"That would be nice," Hux snarled, the sarcasm would most likely be lost on her so he didn't bother to hide it. She pushed more bolts astray until a squadron of Stormtroopers arrived to end the standoff. Once he was certain all the rebels were accounted for and he was as safe as possible while still on hostile ground, Hux turned his attention to the Knight.  
  
"Thank you. I'm surprised," he stopped himself, unsure of what he wanted to say. Anything that might follow his disastrous start of a sentence would most likely only antagonize the Knight. She had helped him, with no reason to, and he should try to be gracious.  
  
"Lord Ren wouldn't want you damaged," came her offered response. The dull monotone from the mask hid enough that Hux couldn't tell if she mocked him or not. He would have to assume so, Ren wouldn't care one way or another if Hux happened to be hurt or killed in the line of duty. In fact, Ren might well rejoice.  
  
Hux gave a tight nod of acceptance before she turned and swept out of the room. The conference area seemed larger without her as if she had taken up more space than physically possible. Like his father.  
  
Nagging suspicion ate at Hux, something was off about this whole scenario. That sense of wrongness made Hux search the dead Resistance members, check over their weapons, examine their armor. As he did, Hux's temper rose to the surface as blood pounded in his temples. The troopers who surrounded him would never know their General concealed a killing rage, he had always excelled at hiding his emotions. 

Because Hux knew, incontrovertibly, the dead men on the floor belonged to the First Order. Someone outfitted Stormtroopers as the Resistance members, at least a good facsimile thereof, and their orders contained his death. Hux was familiar with the markers left on men trained using his father's programming. Of anyone, Hux would be most intimately aware of the types of weapons that they used. Now, surrounded by more men, loyal Stormtroopers all, who may well mean to kill him Hux does what he can to protect himself.   
  
After calculating the odds, Hux decided he was safe as it would no longer appear to be an assassination attempt. Not this long after the original groups nullification.  
  
Without comment, Hux gathered his troops so they may escort him back to the _Finalizer_. Once safely on board his ship, he ordered several platoons down to subdue the capital city to take the ore Snoke sent him for.  As an afterthought, he commands the troops to search for a young boy who might be hiding in the villa.  If found, the boy should be remanded over to the Knights.  
  
Snoke.  
  
A thin smile curled across Hux's lips and stretched the skin of cheeks. Of course, with proper hindsight he uncovered the hand of the Supreme Leader behind this. If Ren wanted him assassinated (and honestly, that's where Hux originally placed the blame) then the Knight presented the perfect assassin. No one would ever know of her presence here, her convenient disappearance after his death would have gone quiet and unremarked.  
  
Survival came first. Hux managed to escape death next he must secure himself against further attacks. Now, his intellect had free rein to plot revenge.  
  
Moving against Snoke but at this point would be the height of madness, but Hux couldn't sit back and wait for the Supreme Leader to attempt his death again. Whatever misdeed of his earned Snoke's ire, Hux didn't care. Although the attempt might have been enacted for no real reason beyond making Hux a martyr for troops to rally behind.  
  
In secrecy Hux began his plans. It started as idle thoughts, something to help tamp down his rage at the betrayal. He assumed Snoke would need to eliminated him eventually, his ambition to rule matched his ability. The Supreme Leader dealt harshly with rivals. Before long, Hux's cunning branched out - Snoke's callousness in regards to Hux's abilities to bring victory to their cause might extend to undermine the whole of the First Order. Removing a strong piece from the board at this juncture made no sense.  
  
Snoke was a threat to the one establishment that would, in time, elevate the entire galaxy into a golden age. Such hazards must be avoided or eliminated. General Hux held nothing personal in his decision, no perverse sense of glee, just calculated logic that said Snoke must be removed from power. Feelings of a personal nature only clouded the issue and Hux met every challenge with clear vision.  
  
He never wrote anything down, never did anything overt and yet Hux found himself confronted by the Supreme Leader's watchdog anyway. The black-clad menace grabbed the General and forcibly hauled him through the _Finalizer_ to the Ren's living quarters.  
  
Being treated like a recalcitrant child never sat well with Hux but he also didn't want to show too much division where any of the crew might see them. He and Ren were considered equals, at least ostentatiously. Hux thought about shaking off the proprietary grip locked with bruising force just above his elbow then ultimately discarded the idea out of a growing sense of curiosity.  
  
Fear coiled deeply in his gut and Hux considered if Ren's plans included killing Hux for his master? It made no sense but Hux saw plots all around him these days.  
  
Nothing Ren ever did made any sense to Hux and his inability to read Ren made their working relationship volatile. Perhaps Kylo intuited how Hux needed to classify and quantify and went out of his way to present an impenetrable wall to defy Hux’s logic. Kylo Ren, one giant affront to everything in Hux's well-ordered world.  
  
Once the door to Ren's quarters slid shut, the man immediately turned and crowded into Hux's personal space. Never one to back down, Hux held his ground and his eyes stared into the black slit of Ren's helmet. Intimidation tactics were wasted on both of them.  
  
"I know what you're planning," Ren finally said, his modulated voice making the fine hairs on Hux's arm stand on end.  
  
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're prattling on about," Hux responded steadily. His conscious rang clear because Hux kept his plans hidden, ensuring his safety. Only Hux's thoughts... that froze him momentarily. Had Ren ripped the very thoughts from his head?  
  
One gloved hand lifted before Kylo's fingertips rested lightly against Hux's temple proving Hux right. Nothing was held inviolate to these damn Knights. With dignity and no small amount of defiance Hux lifted his chin. No point in denying anything but he'd be damned if would say anything out loud to incriminate himself further.  
  
Keeping his fingers against Hux's temple Kylo leaned forward until his mask rested beside Hux's head with the flat mouth piece close to Hux's ear.  
  
"I'm planning the same thing."  
  
At Ren's confession, Hux jerked back and his shoulders hit the wall. Fear and hope spasmed in time with the panicked beat of his heart. Dare he believe Ren? No. Ren tried to spring a trap around him, one he must walk into. 

“Perhaps I should warn Snoke that his lap dog is gnawing at its leash?” Hux mentioned slyly as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Kylo Ren as he searched for any reaction to his words.

"If I'm his dog, what are you? The shit on his boot heel?" Ren laughed, the noise distorted and unholy.   
  
Hux retreated into the safety of his silence again.   
  
Ren stepped away from him and turned to show Hux his back before reaching up to remove the black helmet. Seeing Kylo's bare face never ceased to give him pause. He well understood why Ren hid his identity, his seeming youth coupled with the faint softness in his face ruined his menace.   
  
"Eiri told me about you," without the mask his voice remained low but the lack of distortion was a welcome relief.  
  
"Eiri?" Hux couldn't help but ask. He didn't recognize the name.  
  
"The Knight on Io Prime. She spoke highly of you," Ren expanded as his dark eyes fixed on Hux's face to gauge his reactions.  
  
"Ah, I didn't know her name. I appreciated her aid and quick thinking," sharing information in little snippets between them; Hux wondered at what strangeness strangled them in its grip. They were supposed to hate each other and work to tearing each other down to prove which of them deserved to be Snoke's favored.   
  
Except, it appeared neither one of them wanted the position any more.  
  
Kylo began to pace, his measured tread moving in precise lines back and forth across the room. Ren didn't use his position to gain special treatment, he chose to live in the basic confined crew quarters. His height and bulk created the illusion of a smaller space, Hux wondered if Ren ever suffered from claustrophobia.   
  
"She said you didn't beg her for help, didn't even think of trying to involve her. You impressed her by being determined to fight your own battles. Do you know how rare that is, General? Most people see us and immediately set about trying to use us," Kylo chose his words carefully, each one measured and methodical. Traits Hux never associated with Ren.  
  
"Use the Knights of Ren? We're taught to avoid and fear your kind, Ren. Why would we try to use you?" Hux shook his head, taken aback at Ren's reasoning as he wondered what game Kylo played.  
  
At Hux's words, Ren stopped pacing and turned to stare at the General. He looked genuinely surprised at the questions and suddenly Hux's legs trembled from the emotionally shaky ground he found himself on. Who _would_ dare to use Kylo Ren?  Only one person.  
  
"That's all people do. I'm only good for what can be wrung out of me," Kylo answered levelly as if he stated an obvious fact. Hux knew he had to look bewildered because he still couldn't fathom a damn thing about Kylo Ren. The man was a constant study in contradiction.  
  
As he normally did in times of stress, Hux began repeating the alliterative mantra which helped him cure his lisp: " _sip, ship, sail, sir, sip, ship, sail, sir..."_ He hated that he still used the childish exercise, but the repetition helped to calm his racing thoughts and made sure when he spoke his words came out clearly and crisply. Brendol Hux's son could never be anything less than perfect.  
  
"What are you doing?" Kylo demanded with anger lancing through his voice. He took a step toward Hux, perhaps to be threatening or perhaps just in confusion and curiosity.  
  
"Standing here?" Hux shot back before he could censor himself.   
  
"No, in your head."  
  
It took a moment for Hux to truly understand what Kylo asked of him. When the knowledge dawned on him, Hux fought a chill as his baser instincts screamed at him to step back and to run, run, run. Because without any effort, without any outward sign at all Kylo Ren was constantly in his mind, with constant access to everything held in Hux's head.   
  
The old litany became a shriek in his head - _SIP, SHIP, SAIL, SIR_ \- the words pounded in his temples driving out other thoughts as panic continued to beat beneath his ribs. Hux watched the display of emotions as they crossed Kylo's mobile face and he wondered what his own expression betrayed. As the moment stretched out between them Hux worked on keeping his breathing even. No, he would never crack and break in front of Kylo Ren, there was no challenge Hux couldn't face and overcome.  
  
Kylo stepped toward him, almost as if Hux drew Ren in against his will. His widely open dark eyes made Ren look impossibly young and his mouth hung slightly ajar. Kylo reached his hand toward Hux's face again but Hux couldn't bear to have Ren touch him. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the thought. Hux flinched.  
  
"When you do that I can barely hear you. What are you doing?" Kylo sounded both vexed and petulant at once. Hux couldn't help himself, he burst out laughing at the how much Kylo managed to appear like a menacing child. Ren's perplexed look made the laughter fuller, deeper. Mentally Hux kept up the internal chant as his laughter died.  
  
"You should learn to play things closer to your chest, Ren. Now I can keep you out all the time," Hux smirked. Kylo's eyes gleamed as he advanced the last few feet between them and pushed into Hux's personal space.   
  
"There's always a way around such things," Kylo told him in a sinister whisper before he slanted his mouth over Hux's. The unexpected movement made Hux still completely, his body locked up as the breath rushed out of him. Sure enough, his mind followed his body into immobility and Hux swore he felt the tendrils of Ren's Force power slip-sliding into his mind.  
  
"Get out of my head," Hux snarled, full of affront.   
  
"But the depth of your thoughts... You weave schemes and plots so dense and dark inside of you, not even I can untangle all of them. It feels wonderful," Kylo breathed out as his eyes went heavy-lidded. He looked almost drunk and Hux ducked away to put several large steps between them.  
  
"There is a distinct disadvantage at work here, Ren. You can see into my mind and know all my secrets. What reassurance is there that you won't betray me? This all may be a clever bid to rid yourself of a rival," Hux told him coldly. Kylo cocked his head as if he listened to something for his ears alone. Anger flushed bitterly hot through Hux since the bastard probably lingered in his head.  
  
"I'll say what you won't - I'm planning on killing Supreme Leader Snoke. Now, you have something over me. If you go to Snoke with my voice and those words foremost in your thoughts I'll be eliminated without you having to lift a finger. Does holding my death in your mind earn your trust, General?" Kylo demanded. The unbearable smugness on Ren's face deepened Hux's loathing for the Knight.   
  
Inexplicably, he hated Ren and yet he took the time to consider this insane alliance. On his own Hux would never get close enough to Snoke, the Supreme Leader kept to a hermit-like existence.  Snoke kept secluded retreats on untraceable worlds, his only appearance came in the form of a massive hologram. Not even the High Command met with Snoke in person. The Supreme Leader jumped from system to system to blur and obscure his presence. Hux believed himself paranoid yet Snoke took secrecy to a whole new level.   
  
Ren might be his best chance to discover Snoke's real whereabouts, Hux thought the risk might be worth aligning himself with Ren. Hux allowed his eyes to rove over Kylo Ren as he contemplated the seriousness of his scheme to kill Snoke.  
  
If the impetus came only from Hux's wounded pride demanding retribution for the assassination attempt, Hux would be willing to forego this course of action. As time went on and the closer Hux looked at current events and Snoke's policies the more it became obvious that he undermined the First Order to force it into redundancy. Hux pushed away the egotistical thought his father left the Order as a legacy for his only son. The First Order must be preserved for the balance they would bring to the galaxy, the First Order didn't exist for Hux alone.  
  
Everything in Hux shied away from the enormous risk in trusting Kylo Ren. Quickly Hux tried to calculate the worth of Ren as an ally, how necessary it might be to put himself on the line for a man known for his violent whims and changing moods.   
  
He yanked his eyes up and stared at Kylo and searched desperately for some sign this wasn't the foolhardiest thing he would ever do. Hux's heart pounded loudly in his ears, relying on others didn't come naturally to Hux. His formative years taught him to depend upon his own strengths.   
  
"Why?" Hux rasped out, unsure of what exactly he wanted to articulate. _Why me? Why do you want to kill Snoke? Why are you doing this? Just plain why?_  
  
Kylo flashed a mirthless smile. His dark eyes became flat and cold in a way that boded ill. Those were killing eyes.   
  
"I am no one's puppet," was the only answer Kylo offered. Which made no sense to Hux and only reinforced the idea of Ren's insanity. Out of anyone in the First Order, Kylo had the most freedom and autonomy.   
  
But... what if it all were an illusion?   
  
Hux held the presumption that the Knights of Ren, being Force-users, feared Snoke less since they held a similar power. Yet, perhaps the opposite held true, their trepidation stemmed from being potential rivals to a creature notoriously power-hungry. The idea held merit, only Snoke would dare to eliminate a capable master of the Knights.  
  
Keeping Hux and Ren at each other's throats worked well for Snoke, the strategy was easy to understand and Hux accepted it at face value. Their hatred kept them focused on each other and their petty rivalry instead of allowing them to join forces. Hux wore his ambition openly and he assumed Kylo had his own aspirations to have risen to the head of his order. If they managed to put aside their enmity, this might not be as foolish a mistake as Hux initially thought.   
  
"Then why me? Surely one or more of your Knights would serve you better?" Hux asked while his mind cast out in all directions for answers.  
  
"Because I like you."

Hux looked at Kylo in alarm. Of all the myriad answers he thought possible this one would never have occurred to Hux. What did _like_ have to do with anything? He felt his nose wrinkle as his face showed how perplexed Kylo made him. Ren crept closer in a manner suggesting he thought Hux might bolt like a wild animal. Didn't Ren realize his own befuddlement did a fine job of holding him in place.  
  
With a grin that turned wry Kylo leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the lines crisscrossing the bridge of Hux's nose. An involuntary noise escaped from Hux at the antithetical move, it went against all Hux knew about Ren.  
  
"You seriously can't be plotting treason so you can bed me?"   
  
"Not my only reason, no... but I'm hoping you'll be a perk. Mainly I'm doing this because Snoke took something from me. Don't push too hard, General, right now you're a useful unknown, one the Supreme Leader won't expect. Just be grateful that we can work together," Kylo answered almost lightly. No, this man would never make any sense to Hux.  
  
"I don't like you," Hux pointed out as if it were a compelling argument.  
  
"I'm well aware, General. I didn't think there was a prerequisite which said we had to like each other to fuck or plot sedition," Ren's tone said he thought Hux was being childish. What a fucking joke, Kylo Ren's misguided belief of being the responsible adult.   
  
  
If Hux were honest with himself, this scenario never would have occurred to him. He had missed no key piece of evidence that might help him to predict any of this. Truth be told, his knowledge of Kylo Ren extended to what he gleaned from a few reports and the immediate antipathy which formed between them at their first meeting. Hux prided himself on his ability to make accurate and rapid judgments. Having to reexamine what he thought about Kylo Ren, the possibility of his initial conclusions being wrong, galled Hux's dignity.  
  
Their dangerous partnership was born out of the desire for death and not anything so mundane as affection. Waging a war against a common enemy might be the only thing to unite these fractious men. Anything else wasted their time.  
  
They planned. They waited. In the interim, they fucked to relieve stress and aggression. Their coupling, always frenetic as they battled for dominance over each other, because neither man would give ground to the other. Throughout his career sex carried little meaning for Hux, an attitude which enhanced his reputation as cold and methodical. Passion was a way to manipulate or a bargaining chip or a simple release. He wouldn't change for Kylo Ren.  
  
Although there were advantages to bedding a Force-user as Kylo proved himself to be an inventive lover. Hux did his best to ignore the voice within that snidely told him the only reason he enjoyed their encounters was because Kylo could read his mind. He tried to see the intrusion as a benefit.  
  
Once they completed and fired Starkiller Base there was the inevitable sense everything would go to hell. Somehow the decimated Resistance rallied to destroy Starkiller, sneaking in like thieves to ruin his Base from the inside. Adding insult to injury, Snoke demanded Hux search for Ren and drag his sorry ass to safety. Hux didn't know what had possessed him to place a tracker in Ren's belt but he tried hard not to be grateful for that foresight.  
  
Better for both of them if Kylo Ren died in the snow, better yet if Starkiller Base had caught them in its death throes. Hux wasn't normally so fatalistic, his emotional state manipulated him in the aftermath of his greatest work being destroyed.   
  
With Kylo so wounded, barely able to support his own weight and a hole torn in his side, then summoned without care to Snoke's side. Thankfully, the Supreme Leader hadn't specified exactly when Kylo was to be delivered, an oversight Hux planned to use to his advantage. After dragging the formidable weight of Kylo back to the _Finalizer_ , Hux saw Ren safely ensconced in a bacta tank.  
  
Unable to do anything to speed along the healing, Hux focused on preparing himself. The unfortunate truth that Kylo Ren might never be ready to fight must be thrust away and ignored for now. Hux would ensure his own abilities were in peak form, Kylo must take care of himself.   
  
He and Kylo engaged in protracted discussions before the fall of Starkiller, sometimes heated, about what role Hux might play. They couldn't truly plan a strategy without any concrete information. With no location, no way to know what the layout would be, or what advantages they might have their planning fell short. The sum of their knowledge boiled down to Kylo engaging Snoke up close with sabers and the Force, Hux had been the one to suggest his sniper skills.  
  
"You? A sniper?" Kylo laughed, his eyes sparkled with mirth. Instead of grinding his teeth, Hux poured another shot of brandy into his glass and drank it. They always seemed to do their planning in the cramped spaces of Kylo's room but, out of self-preservation, Hux started bringing alcohol. Otherwise he might strangle Kylo himself.

"You assume that I'm hopeless with a rifle?" Hux had demanded sweetly after swallowing his temper with the liquor.  
  
"No. Yes. Oh, hell, who can tell?" Kylo finally answered after another swig directly from the bottle. "It isn't like you ever allow anyone to know what you're capable of."  
  
"If I announced everything, nothing would be a secret," Hux casually pointed out with a wave of his hand. Kylo had kept his eyes fixed on Hux's hand, seemingly intrigued by his slender fingers.   
  
"I think you're drunk, General," Kylo told him while inching closer.  
  
"I can still shoot better than you can fly," Hux taunted. He flicked his fingers toward Ren since the man wouldn't stop watching his hand. Hux had quickly learned the best way to raise Kylo's ire was to subtly, or not so subtly, disparage his piloting skills.  
  
As expected, Kylo pounced and knocked Hux from the chair onto the cold floor. Impatient hands grappled at Hux's belt to remove his uniform jacket, Hux remained quietly unresponsive during the onslaught. He never encouraged Kylo.  
  
Using the Force, Kylo pinned Hux's arms above his head and used brute strength to strip off the rest of his uniform. Kylo's grin turned mocking once he uncovered Hux and found him to be flushed and half-hard. Hux hated his fair skin as his chest and cheeks heated up at the implied ridicule on Kylo's face. Just because he neither encouraged or complained doesn't imply he didn't want this. It's the foolish notions that Kylo gets into his head that Hux doesn't want any part of.  
  
The first bite is sharp and painful on his pectoral but it still made Hux arch upward involuntarily with pleasure. Kylo scraped his teeth over Hux's nipple before sliding down and placed a set of perfect teeth marks near Hux's navel, then ignored the area to suck a bruise onto Hux's hip.  
  
Hux wanted to be embarrassed by the low moan that escaped him as Kylo peeled off his outer robes before he straddled Hux wearing nothing but his low slung pants. With a wicked grin Kylo pulled a short knife from a boot holster, the blade as sharp as Kylo's smile. Hux's breath stuttered out of him as Hux closed his eyes. Kylo was always innovative and would hurt him in the best possible ways.  
  
In a whisper light caress, Kylo pulled the flat of the blade up from Hux's stomach to his sternum. The chill made Hux want to shiver but knew he had to keep his control. He wanted any injury Kylo caused to be on purpose, not because Hux couldn't contain his baser instincts. Still...  
  
"Are you sure you know how to use that?" mockery dripped from the words, Kylo’s doubt about his skill with a rifle still stung.  
  
"As if you have cause to doubt?" Ren's reply didn't sound as perturbed as Hux hoped but it did stop the idle drag of metal against his skin.  
  
Kylo leaned low and for one desperate moment Hux thought Ren might kiss him. The surprise at how much he wanted the attention and Hux had to work to contain his whimper when denied. His control should be better than this, not easily wrecked by Kylo Ren. Instead, Kylo buried his nose in the short hair at Hux's temple and breathed slowly.  
  
Hux wanted to buck, to twitch, to do something that would force Ren to move. He couldn't ignore the knife pressed between their bodies though, the metal rapidly warmed to match their body temperature, a risk Hux wasn't willing to take. In a compromise, Hux flexed his fingers open and curled them upward in the only pleading he was willing to offer.  
  
With serpentine grace Kylo pulled himself upright, a dark knowledge stamped on his features. His tongue darted over his lips to moisten them before just the tip poked out between his teeth in a rare display of concentration.  
  
Careful, sure strokes of the blade cascaded in a pattern down Hux's ribs. The pain was almost nonexistent for a long moment then the nerve endings kicked in and pain sharp and sweet stung Hux. Shallow runnels of blood trickled down Hux's side as he fought to keep still.   
  
Kylo placed the blade aside before swiping his thumb across the shallow wounds, smearing the blood and intensifying the pain.  
  
"More," Hux gasped, breaking his own rules. He'd never asked for anything, never shown Kylo that he might need what was between them.   
  
Ren scooped up the knife in his overlarge hand and he traced over one of the cuts again, pushed the blade deeper until the sensation flared with sharp exquisiteness. This time, when Kylo dropped the knife he did lean in for a kiss, a brief brush of lips that left Hux yearning and unsatisfied.   
  
Using his own natural strength, Kylo pulled Hux up and man-handled him until Hux knelt before Ren. Hux could hear Kylo removing his pants, he sighed imperceptibly with the knowledge of what was coming. He felt Ren's cock bump forcefully against him and tilted his hips to get a better angle. Thankfully Kylo had already slicked oil over himself and he slid into Hux easily with a low growl. Kylo's finger dug deeply into Hux's hips as he thrust shallowly, barely giving Hux enough friction. 

Ren pushed Hux forward so he fell to all fours then began to pound into him with a brutality Hux craved. Hux's eyes slid closed as he lost himself in the sensations Kylo created, he panted briefly before he buried his teeth in lower lip to arrest any noise he might make. The only sound is the harsh slap of skin on skin until Kylo's breath hissed out of him as his orgasm shuddered through him. Hux wanted to comment snidely about stamina but managed to bite the words back, Kylo probably heard his thoughts anyway.   
  
Still buried deep within him, Kylo pulled Hux back up onto his knees and used one arm to pin Hux against him.  
  
"If you want to come, you'll have to do it yourself," Ren whispered into Hux's ear with slow maliciousness. In seeming contradiction, he wrapped one hand around Hux's cock to spread something slick over the shaft.  
  
As soon as Kylo moved his hand, Hux quickly wrapped his fingers around his cock. He doesn't need finesse, just release. He set a rough pace and found his breath driven out of him at Kylo's cleverness. The slashes on his ribs are at the exact right spot for his arm to brush against them as he jerked off, sending sparks of pain through him as he stroked his cock. Hux's mouth fell open and he couldn't stop the helpless mewling noises.  
  
Between the slick tightness of his hand and the radiating pain in his side, Hux came in a pitifully short amount of time. His orgasm shot like lightning through him and Kylo's laughter huffed over his skin making Hux shiver. This time, though, the gentle mockery didn't raise his ire. He deserved it.  
  
That had decisively ended the discussion of Hux's ability as a sniper. They never discussed his offer again other to ensure he had the rifle he needed for when the time came. Hux didn't waste his time trying to decide what had changed Kylo's mind, simply accepted his desired inclusion and moved forward.  
  
As the slashes along his ribs healed, Hux picked at the deepest one to ensure a faint scar. With time even that would fade but until then the pale line served as a reminder. Such a foolish action which held no reason and Hux couldn't even explain to himself what purpose being marked by Kylo Ren might serve. That the shallow scar sat on the same side as the crater Ren received from the Wookiee's bowcaster seemed to mean something to Hux's subconscious as he found his fingers straying to the area to rub as if the old wound ached.  
  
Once Ren was released by the healers Hux knew that they couldn't afford to waste any more time. Snoke had called his apprentice home, the Supreme Leader would only wait for so long before his wrath would be made known. The best they could hope for was that their fragile plan could be carried out.  
  
Minus their normal bickering, Hux and Ren agreed leave a few days after Kylos's release from the med bay. Although Kylo lost both muscle and flexibility, he'd healed as much as possible. Futile to wish for the time to restore the loss, yet Hux did; he wanted them both at their best to face Snoke.  
  
"I can train on the shuttle, Hux. Don't worry about me," Ren dismissed Hux's concerns as if they were needless.  
  
"Your life on the line as well, you know?" the question was bitten off and full of venom.  
  
"You know I do. You'll get out, I can ensure that much," Kylo said and Hux thought he could hear a trace of sorrow. Icy fear hooked tiny claws into him; surely Kylo wasn't planning on sacrificing himself?  
  
There were certain things they didn't talk about. Both their childhoods and the future belonged to topics of discussion outside the limits of what they would share. Hux found a curious freedom to being constantly suspended in the current moment of time with Kylo, an artificially created cocoon of timelessness. Hux supposed that things became easier when you didn't have to think about what might come, although calculating consequences was so ingrained Hux couldn't, quite, stop.   
  
When Kylo Ren slipped the small black stone into his hand, he caught Hux completely off guard. Such an ordinary rock, nothing special about the gift other than the trinket came from Kylo. Sentimental value, Hux mused as he looked from the stone to its owner.  
  
"I want you to take it for luck. I found the damn thing when I was young. Younger. It's mine," Ren explained haltingly and unhelpfully. Of course the pebble belonged to Ren, did he really think that Hux would accuse him of stealing such a worthless bauble.  
  
"Who else would claim ownership of a plain rock?"  
  
"Well, you now. I guess. Unless you don't want it?" Kylo sounded impossibly young and out of spite Hux wanted to throw the gift back at him. Yet he found his fingers curled possessively around the unexpected offering.  
  
"For luck, you said? I'll return it to you once we complete this mission," Hux lied easily.  
  
Hux put Phasma in charge of the _Finalizer_ , unable to divulge the reason for his absence and she was smart enough to not ask. Everything would become clear one way or another. Fear beat a rapid tattoo alongside his heartbeat as they boarded the shuttle and took off, it went against all of Hux's training to embark on a strategy this ambitious without a real plan. His father would have been appalled.

The tiny ship held just enough room for the pilot in the cockpit and the body contained only rudimentary facilities with a single cot to sleep on. Once Ren set the auto pilot, he sank down onto the floor to meditate leaving Hux alone with his thoughts. To help subdue his fretting, Hux pulled out his rifle and set about taking the gun apart and methodically cleaning the pieces. Not that stripping the rifle was necessary but it gave his hands and mind something to focus on.  
  
Eventually, he curled up on the tiny bunk that attached to the wall of the shuttle, forced into the cramped space by Ren who moved through a series of katas. Even Hux noticed his stiffness but the hesitant grace to Ren's movements practically shouted the fact that Ren wasn't up to a protracted battle. Hux mentally altered the plan to swiftly find a suitable place, line up the shot, and end this quickly. A vain hope, to think he might be able to protect Ren.  
  
He shouldn't give a shit about Ren. His objective needed to be to find a way in to Snoke's stronghold and get back out again. Ren could worry about himself. He wouldn't expend useless energy worried about Hux. Ren wouldn't dare. Hux closed his eyes, fell into a light doze where worry and expectation blanketed him.  
  
"Hey, Hux," a hand fell on his shoulder and Hux jerked awake.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're almost there. I'm going to do what I can to hide you from the Force so Snoke won't notice you. Just before we land I'll use the sensors on the shuttle and the Force to map his lair so we have a better idea of the interior layout. Snoke will expect to feel me using the Force, it's a test for all of the Knights to determine if we can navigate his little mazes," Kylo told him in a weary monotone. A shadow darkened Ren's eyes, one Hux hadn't seen before and his gut clenched painfully.  
  
"As long as he doesn't suspect anything," Hux growled. Never before and never again would he go into something with so little planning, doing so now grated on his nerves and lent an air of helplessness to their cause.  
  
"He always suspects something," Kylo chided and Hux acknowledged the bare truth of the words. Snoke somehow managed to extend his life for a very long time. Hux thought himself jaded until he'd been brought into the holopresence of the Supreme Leader. An ancient weight loomed behind Snoke that allowed Hux to see how his insignificant handful of years meant nothing to Snoke. A shudder ran traceries up his spine, they had to assume that Snoke expected treachery.  
  
Kylo leaned forward then, his hand braced against the wall by Hux's head. His features held a curious openness as his wide brown eyes searched Hux's face. Whatever Ren’s scrutiny expected to find, Hux found he opened his mind fully to facilitate the search. The blind faith he displayed in bringing Hux as back up on this mission made the breath catch in Hux's throat.  
  
Then Kylo turned his head to the side and moved away. A thin yearning in Hux wanted to rewind the moment and follow wherever this carried them, how would the moment play out if... if what? If Hux leaned forward, open to whatever nonsense Kylo kept in his head?  No, keeping his distance was the right choice, the smart answer. They didn't mean anything to each other, they only used each other in an attempt to remove the hand that held their leashes.   
  
Snoke's hiding place was barely a planetoid, it looked like a lump of dead rock and Hux debated if Kylo brought them to the right place. He didn't dare think the question loud enough for Kylo to hear, not when the madman had engaged the shuttle in a steep dive into one of the fissures. They cleared the rocky mouth which hid the landing bay, narrow and almost impossible to maneuver in, and Hux was suddenly glad that Kylo never exaggerated his piloting skills.  
  
"He's in a room, vaulted ceiling and there's a series of balconies. You'll need to find the hallway that takes you there. I'm... I'm able to hide you from him, most of Snoke's attention is focused elsewhere," Kylo sounded breathy as if he's shocked by something.   
  
"Can you, at least, point me in the right direction?" Hux wanted the words to have more bite. Somewhere, somehow things had changed between them. A fragile trust existed between them now and for a wild moment, Hux was reminded of the day his father died. His life had been set in that instant, it had brought him here with Ren. And for some impossible reason, he trusted Ren to get them out intact.  
  
His belief must have shown on his face because Ren placed one hand on Hux's shoulder and brushed his lips across Hux's cheek.  
  
"I'll do my best," Kylo said solemnly. Hux doesn't believe they have a shot in hell at succeeding and Ren's words did nothing to curb the fear lacing his insides.  
  
Hux kept his expression bland as he shouldered the heavy rifle. He made sure the weapon was loaded and ready to go, he just needed a flat area to set up his shot. The balconies Ren had seen would be perfect as long as he reached them unseen. If Snoke had anyone here with him, they might sound the alarm if intruders were spotted.  
  
"He's here alone," Ren answered dully, his attention elsewhere. Most likely still mentally scanning this rock.  
  
"I've always wondered..." Hux stopped midsentence. Belatedly it occurred to him that what he wanted to know might be indelicate at best. Force-users were so unpredictable.  
  
"Just ask. I won't be offended," the lost tone disappeared from Kylo's voice so perhaps the interruption was worth it.  
  
"When you interrogated people, they appeared to feel pain with you in their minds. Your probes never hurt me, I don't even notice the intrusion," Hux said.   
  
"That's not a question," Kylo told him levelly while he put on his mask.  
  
"Why doesn't it hurt me?"  
  
"The mind probes only hurt the others because they fought against me. You've never tried to keep me out," Kylo responded, his voice dampened behind metal and leather.  
  
"You know I tried to keep you out, I always did," Hux protested, his brows pulled together.  
  
"No, you never did. If you tried to block me from your thoughts, you'd be in a great deal of pain. Your subconscious has always been open to me, although your little chant does create an effective shield," Kylo gave a soft laugh as his fingers ghosted against Hux's temple.   
  
If Kylo spoke the truth, and Hux didn't entirely believe the explanation, that meant he had lied to himself about Kylo Ren for longer than he'd like to admit. He looked at Kylo, garbed in black and silver, and no longer saw the threat that the man presented. So much change is such a short time, Hux suddenly realized how precious little time remained.  
  
They disembarked from the shuttle, leaving the hatch open and the ramp down. The better to quickly getaway if necessary, although if things went wrong they most likely would never return to the ship. With regretful fingers Hux tapped at the hull of the shuttle, she was a good ship.  
  
The roughhewn walls gobbled the sparse lighting and Hux wondered how this little planetoid had been made habitable. The ball of rock shouldn't have held itself together, there wasn't enough mass to generate an atmosphere. However, luck presented them this opportunity and Hux worked at calming his mind so they could make the most of it. He replayed his mantra continually in his head: sip, ship, sail, sir. Perhaps Kylo used the words as well, the idea pleased Hux. It meant Hux had given something useful to Ren, better than a common stone.  
  
"We have to part ways here. If you continue on straight ahead there should be a stairwell to the right, that should take you to the balconies. Hurry, if you can. I'm not going to give him a chance to speak," Kylo warned. Hux understood, giving the Supreme Leader any possibility to worm into Kylo's thoughts would be disastrous.  
  
Without thinking Hux tangled his fingers with Kylo's and squeezed. The simple gesture went against all the rules Hux set for himself, he offered a small smile to which Kylo responded with a tight nod. Insanity made Hux want to see Ren's eyes one last time. This must be it, no other reason presented itself.  
  
Hux turned and jogged up the hallway, he refused to look back. Everything they'd planned came down to this moment. The time was long past for second thoughts or to dwell on foolish wishes that sprung into his head. He must focus on the mission now; he couldn't worry about Kylo Ren or whatever feelings the man churned up within him.  
  
Just as Kylo had predicted Hux found the branch to the right with steps leading upward. Hux's heart pounded steadily but he ignored it, working toward the calm headspace he would need once Snoke was in his sights. He took the stairs at a run, counting each step as he blocked out the world.  
  
He ducked low as he neared the top, Hux wished Ren would have told him if the balcony was enclosed. There was no way Ren would have supplied an accurate answer and surprise nipped at Hux as he realized it didn't matter. He would believe whatever Ren told him.   
  
A barred railing surrounded the balcony; it gave Hux enough space to hunker down on his belly and set up the rifle. Not enough cover that he would be hidden from sight if Snoke happened to glance upward Hux would be exposed.  
  
From the looks of things, Hux didn't need to worry. Ren, good as his word, attacked as soon as he closed the distance between himself and the Supreme Leader. Hux was used to seeing Ren fight, the swirling moves that were part grace and part luck. Even from here Hux noticed the visible signs of Ren's flagging stamina, one hand pressed to his side, the tiny wobble as he parried another heavy blow from Snoke's lightsaber.  
  
Turning away from the battle below took all of Hux's willpower, he must focus on his own task. The tinny hum and buzz of the lightsabers as they clashed told the story well enough for him to follow without the need to watch. He steadied himself, the frission of electricity under his skin honed him down until the only thing was his breath and staring through the rifle scope.   
  
Instead of admiring Ren's moves now, Hux cursed them. Ren always seemed to be in the way of his shot, he only had one. His attack would only work as a surprise, Snoke would be able to deflect a second round.  
  
One shot only.

Focused only on the crosshairs, Hux pushed all remaining air out his lungs. He settled himself so there wasn't a tremor in his whole body. By the time Kylo went down, Hux's detachment let him watch Ren be slammed into the hard rock without flinching. Ren lived, Hux knew by Snoke's unnatural stillness meant Kylo held him tight in a Force grip.  
  
Deep breath in, Hux's lungs expanded as his finger tightened.   
  
The report from the rifle echoed louder than expected, swallowing all the sound before momentarily deafening Hux. All the noise of the complex rushed back at once as Hux, unthinkingly, leapt over the railing to drop to the floor of the arena causing him to stumble.  
  
Blood and brains splattered across the heavy grey stone seat Snoke transmitted his hologram from, his twisted face mostly gone. Hux always had a strong stomach, the gore didn't bother him but the sick fascination of watching a destroyed ruin which used to be a man sluggishly reform itself made him queasy. The gurgled whistle of air being drawn in, a wet snuffle which worsened as the awful face repaired itself, made the tableau horrifying.  
  
Ren remained silent and still on his side and Hux raced towards him as if his life depended on it, he thought he saw shallow breaths from Ren's form. One last look at Snoke confirmed the man, if one considered him that anymore, slowly healed himself.   
  
Just then the entire planetoid shuddered, chunks of porous rock fell from the cracking ceiling. Hux looked up to see the great dome almost on the verge of collapse. He didn't bother to check Ren's pulse, Hux wouldn't leave him here. Savagely Hux pushed down the ghost of his father who insisted dead weight be left behind.  
  
  
He got one shoulder under Ren and heaved upward with all his might. They might be about the same height but Ren weighed more than Hux did, making him bulkier and harder to move. Ren's size was the main reason Stormtroopers were with Hux to carry Ren away from Starkiller Base.  
  
Halfway to the hall and Hux stopped to reposition Ren. The Knight was bigger than he seemed and Hux ended up half dragging him into the labyrinthine tunnels leading to the shuttle bay. Why the damn planet was collapsing around them remained a mystery and one Hux couldn't worry about. If the rock did destroy itself, maybe the cold of space would finally kill Snoke.   
  
The shuttle meant safety, the only destination that made sense.  
  
"Leave me. Snoke. Held this place together. With the Force," Ren gasped out, the words garbled and slushy, too much blood in his lungs.  
  
Impressive that Snoke could hold an entire planet together with his will. If he withdrew enough of his will to heal himself, it might buy them some time, might be just enough to allow them to escape. Hux couldn't seem to react to the terrifying knowledge of Snoke's power other than to continue their flight.  
  
In the back of his mind the question percolated - if Ren were whole, could he hold this rock together? A steady certainty in Hux's hindbrain tells him yes, Ren could. A weak laugh shuddered out of Hux, strangely he thought Ren capable of anything.  
  
"I said," Ren tried again, "leave me."  
  
"No. I've wasted the effort to bring you this far. I'll haul your sorry ass on the damn shuttle. You've got to live; you hear me, Ren?" Hux commanded as desperation edged his tone.  
  
"Better. Chance without. Me," Kylo whispered before going limp. What little coordination Hux found was ruined by Kylo fainting. Deep down Hux knows dragging Ren does him more harm than good, exacerbating the injuries. There aren't any medical supplies on the shuttle capable of handling injuries this intensive. Kylo's right, he should leave him. He won't, though. He can't.  
  
It's almost a relief when the sleek black lines of the shuttle appear before them, the sight giving Hux a renewed surge of strength. He drags Kylo on board and places him as gently as he can on the small cot. Kylo's legs hang off the end, he's too ridiculously tall for anything even remotely normal sized. With great care, Hux removed his helmet and placed it within easy reach. In case Kylo might need the mask later.   
  
Before he moved to the cockpit, Hux grabbed his greatcoat and covered Kylo , the dark wool draped from his neck to his calves. He'd be cold from the shock if the internal bleeding didn't kill him soon. Hux couldn't worry about that now, his sole objective was to pilot them out of here.   
  
Pieces of the shuttle bay fell all around them, boulders hit the shuttle with remarkable frequency and Hux did his best to take off smoothly. With piloting skills that atrophied from disuse, Hux tried to navigate their way out of the crumbling hangar. He winced each time the ship hit against the walls or ceiling, praying the damage remained superficial. The last jolt hit particularly hard; he can't help but crane his neck around to check that Kylo is still on the bed.  
  
As a good portion of the bay collapsed, Hux finally got the shuttle into clear space and sped away. He was meticulously inputting coordinates into the hyperdrive when the shuttle's alarm system sounded.   
  
With amazing alacrity, he shut off the klaxon alarm once he realized they weren't being fired upon. Although, after he read the output he half wished it was enemy fire. That, at least, they had a bare hope of evading. Either from debris or from poor piloting, the shuttle had taken damaged. More specifically, the life support was failing.   
  
He abandoned the coordinates as useless, Hux sent them on a straight shot for as long as their fuel held out. They have a few hours left, maybe more if Kylo died before he breathed too much of the remaining air. Hux couldn't repair the malfunction and he couldn't send out a distress call. 

Both the Resistance and the First Order would most likely kill him on sight. Ren might be taken in by the Resistance, if there was any hope for him.   
  
Men had died before under his command; he didn't quite understand why he wasn't ready to see Ren die. Blood, bright and bitter, on Ren's lips told the tale eloquently enough. The fight with Snoke happened too soon, too close to the injuries sustained on Starkiller. Something vital had broken inside Ren which rapidly ate into the tiny allotment of time remaining to them.  
  
Ren faced a hard death, full of pain and the slow sensation of drowning. With numb hands, Hux silenced all extraneous sounds from the shuttle, the soft beeping incongruent to their circumstances. Stumbling, Hux pulled himself to his feet and carefully made his way back to Kylo.   
  
The harsh, wet cough pulled an involuntary noise from Hux. Hux berated himself for not stocking painkillers, they knew they couldn't escape unscathed yet no medical supplies made it on board. But the idea of laying in supplies seemed too hopeful, too optimistic. They'd both been eminently realistic of their chances on this excursion.  
  
As if an invisible hand cut his strings, Hux fell to his knees and shivered. The hold grew perceptibly colder, his fingers brushed against the gaberwool but he can't seem to force himself take his coat back. Kylo needed it more. For a little while at least.   
  
Hux's traitorous fingers skimmed from the coat to ruffle through the bangs which fell across Kylo's brow. He was growing cold. Another noise escaped, Hux heard the sound but didn't recognize it as coming from him.  
  
Hidden in Hux's pocket was the small black stone from Kylo. Such a strange gift one which made no sense at the time, not that he could make sense of the present now. Vaguely Hux recalled Kylo mentioning this stone was the only object that had been truly his. In the dark aft of the shuttle, Hux pulled it out and turned the shiny pebble over in his palm. Such a small thing, so insignificant. Worthless.  
  
Except.  
  
It's the only thing anyone ever freely gave to Hux. For luck, Kylo told him. Because Hux realized suddenly, Ren could never say he cared about Hux. The plain black rock hadn't brought them luck or care in the end. Just silence and darkness and inevitability.  
  
This death was far kinder and easier than what Hux deserved. His ending should be as violent as Kylo's, something that bit and tore and hurt. Razor sharp pain should have eaten through his last hopeless moments. Instead, he would get sleepy. As the air ran out, his body would quietly shut down. At some point Hux would simply drift off, probably into a dream-like hallucination. He would fall asleep and lie lost in the darkness.  
  
The only proof of his life, the only mark left from the son of Brendol Hux, would be the horror tales history spun about him. The megalomaniac that obliterated five planets, the terroristic madman who destroyed the Hosnian system with the power of a sun. The First Order General who silenced billions of voices, wiped out billions of souls in a careless bid to prove his superiority, his iron fist that he wanted to close around the galaxy.  
  
The worst of the matter, or the best, was that Hux truly believed in his cause. He'd thought by destroying those worlds he would show the might of the First Order; the rest of the systems would know to surrender without further loss of life. None of his troops would need to be sacrificed and in the grand scheme of things so little life would be wasted. Billions dead so hundreds of billions might live. Simple math, or so Hux believed.   
  
Or not, as it history turned out.  
  
Now there was only Hux, trapped in a shuttle leaking air. At least he faced the end with Ren nearby, the only part of this whole scheme that seemed somehow right and appropriate. Trembling fingers ran over Kylo's blood encrusted lips. Hux pulled his fingers away slowly, replaced them with his lips. The metallic taste wasn't new, but the soft pliancy of Kylo's mouth was and the tiny stone dug into his palm as his hand tightened painfully.  
  
They only ever shared angry words between them, false words meant to hide and shield. Hux used careful deliberation to only ever think angry thoughts about Ren. His boyishness, his incompetence, his recklessness. Hate seemed so distant here, the emotion finally losing what little strength it had.

He'd never known what Ren thought of him, that perfect face presented a blank wall to Hux. The mobile features were more likely to sneer and snarl than to give a true reaction, never showed a true feeling.  Until the last moments before they faced Snoke, Ren’s transparently open face that still hadn’t told Hux anything.  
  
Alarmingly, Hux heard the high, thin whistle of his breath as he gulped in precious oxygen. Immediately he held his breath to end the ragged draughts, then forced his breathing to match a slow count. His own end rapidly approached as he knelt on a metal floor idly maudlin over what might have been, he wanted to be disgusted.  
  
Brendol Hux would have been so disappointed.  
  
Yet, Hux held pride in himself, the thought didn't cut the way he intended. It didn't bring laughter or tears, only a calm acceptance. A swift shake of his head, Hux couldn't tell he made the motion to clear his thoughts or in simple denial.   
  
He was starting to feel tired, his eyelids drooped and Hux tried to sense a difference in the quality of the air. Logically he knew there was no way to see or smell the lack of oxygen but that didn't stop him from trying.  
  
Thinking became harder, his thoughts slow and frozen. His mind had always been quick, lightning fast and full of brilliance. He fumbled at the glove on his right hand, his attention narrowed down to perform the vitally important task. Once his hand was exposed he slipped it beneath the heavy greatcoat to tug and pull at Kylo's arm. It took more effort than expected to free Ren's hand, Hux exhausted his fine motor control peeling the leather glove from Kylo's limp hand.  
  
Like everything else, Kylo's hand was larger and thicker than Hux's. He admired the casual elegance to Ren's long fingers, the skin equally pale as Hux's now with a bluer tinge. For a singular moment, Hux wanted to rub his face against Kylo's palm, wanted those lithe fingers to tangle in his hair and hold the warmth of life again.  
  
He sucked in a breath, coughed harshly, then dismissed such silly thoughts. He managed to slot their fingers together, palm to palm, with the stone clasped safely between them. Hux used his other hand to curl Kylo's fingers over his own, their chill and pallor disturbing.  
  
Perhaps he should have left a message, in case they are ever found. A last confession on how they had tried and failed to execute the Supreme Leader, damning them both. A soft sigh escaped Hux... no, neither he nor Ren would want their failure spread throughout the galaxy. If they are ever found, they can present a mystery. A low chuckle floated out of Hux, Ren always was an enigma now Hux trailed in his wake.  
  
At least he isn't alone, father had been alone. Hux wonders abstractly what his father felt as death approached him. For Hux there was a gentle pull towards sleep, an inexorable slide from which he wouldn't return. Had his father been scared? Hux wasn't. Just tired, tired but glad to finally be laying down his burden.  
  
Hux's head fell forward, his forehead pressed against Kylo's neck. His thighs and lower back trembled from the odd position he found himself hunched in, but the ache grew distant enough to be easily to ignored.   
  
The sharp spicy scent of Kylo surrounded him, beneath it swam the coppery tang of dried blood. Hux smiled into the juncture of Kylo's neck, old blood always seemed to linger around both of them. Fitting.  
  
He was growing tired. Hux allowed his eyes to slide shut, breathed heavily as if he could capture this last bit of Kylo's essence in his lungs and hold it close forever.  
  
Sleep stole over him with soft cat feet.  
  
Darkness.

***

 

_There’s a mirror likeness between those two  
shining, youthfully-fledged figures, though  
one seems paler than the other and more austere,  
I might even say more perfect, more distinguished,  
than he, who would take me confidingly in his arms –  
how soft then and loving his smile, how blessed his glance!  
Then, it might well have been that his wreath  
of white poppies gently touched my forehead, at times,  
and drove the pain from my mind with its strange scent.  
But that is transient. I can only, now, be well,   
when the other one, so serious and pale,  
the older brother, lowers his dark torch. –  
Sleep is so good, Death is better, yet  
surely never to have been born is best. _

\--Heinrich Heine

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this damn thing in January and it's taken far too many months to finish. I wasn't sure I had it in me to kill Hux, I've been shying away from it because I really want him to live through the movies. I know that these chapters are mainly gross self-indulgence because I wanted to write them as little boys who grow up and die. I didn't even give them a good death. I'm a terrible person. =( Please forgive me!


End file.
